Frostbites
by Tireseus
Summary: It’s a frigid winter night. As always, Matt insists on sleeping with the window open and Mello, well he can’t sleep a wink.


**Title: **Frostbites

**Rating: **R

**Disclaimer:** Do not own

**By:** Tireseus

**Summary:** Oneshot. It's a frigid winter night. As always, Matt insists on sleeping with the window open and Mello, well he can't sleep a wink. Perverse ideas ensue . . .

**Warnings:** Mature themes. Lemon-scented. Mello/Matt. Don't like, don't read.

**Frostbites**

It's a frigid winter night. Mello and Matt share a bed in their one room apartment. Mello shivers yet again when a particularly cold gust of air issues from the open window, nipping mercilessly at his exposed skin.

Cursing the boy asleep next to him, he pulls soft covers further about himself. As much as he loves the redheaded tech-geek, Mello cannot deny that he possesses some highly infuriating habits. Matt's insistence on sleeping with the window open year-round being one of them.

Thankfully, the furnace is on. Mello has made certain of that. Still, it doesn't seem to make much difference as the furnace heat easily dilutes into the biting winter air that streams into the bedroom.

Usually Mello can sleep quite comfortably despite an open window in the bitter winter months – having been _coerced_ to adapt – but tonight is an exception.

The city is shivering through a cold spell that, according to the news stations, will last until at least the weekend.

It's Wednesday.

What a pain in the ass.

Mello groans audibly, frustrated. Damn it! He wishes he was warm, he was asleep! He has work in the morning after all.

"Asshole," he mutters to the redhead's slumbering form, "_Nobody_ sleeps with the window open in minus fucking twenty-eight degrees weather but you."

He recalls how Matt complained the entire day of being hot and demanded he turn on the air conditioner, which Mello flat-out refused to do, threatening to dropkick the redhead if he so much as _looked_ at the thermostat.

Matt had gone to bed in little more than his favourite pair of Super Smash Bro's boxer shorts, and refused to cuddle or let Mello touch him at all. 'It's too hot for that, so don't no touchy,' he had said moodily, before rolling over and falling asleep.

Mello, who often had a hard time respecting boundaries when it came to Matt, is struck with an idea. He casts a mischievous look in Matt's direction, running his eyes greedily over the sleeping boy. If he's cold and Matt is as hot as he says he is . . . well, this didn't take a genius. Matt should share the warmth.

Mello crawls atop his boyfriend's sprawled body, and lies upon him. His blond head coming to rest on Matt's chest, which he notes is slightly damp.

Sweat?!

Matt is a burning flame beneath him. His heated skin is delicious and warming against Mello.

Vaguely, he tries to ponder just how Matt could be sweating in the dead of winter but the tech-geek's rhythmic breathing is starting to lull him to sleep. That is, until the lithe body beneath his own shifts.

Mello looks up.

Matt is awake – although just barely. His fiery red hair is sweat-soaked and gently tousled, his cheeks are flushed a light pink. Dark eyes slowly come to rest upon the blond teenager.

"Mello . . . ?" His voice is a lethargic, husky whisper.

". . . hey you," returns Mello smirking lazily, before dropping his head to nozzle the sensitive flesh where his neck and shoulder meet. "Mmmm," he moans quietly, "you're so warm Matt."

Matt tenses, grimacing. He's hot enough without the blond's body pressed against him.

"Get off me. Fuck, it's too hot for this." Weakly, he pushes at Mello's shoulders.

Matt's tone sounds oddly soft, pleading, in Mello's ears, compared to his usual cool, firm voice. So Mello ignores him, wrapping his arms around Matt's slim waist and squeezing gently, his tongue darting out at the same time to taste his damp neck, disregarding matt's whimpers of protest entirely.

The wet appendage leaves Matt's throat to be replaced by a tirade of kisses that run up his neck, over his jaw line, the tip of his nose. For every whimper that escapes him, Matt receives another kiss, a gentle touch.

Matt groans miserably. He's too hot. Mello is too hot. He can't breathe. . .

His cheeks are glowing deeply with color. He begins to pant lightly, faintness overcoming him. Fuck. Stupid Mello, taking advantage of him like this. He would punch the bastard in the face had he the strength.

"Ngh, Mello. D- don't . . . " He honestly feels like he's dying. He wants to cry. He's drowning in their heat. It's suffocating.

Finally gathering his strength, Matt places his hands firmly on Mello's the toned chest, and attempts once more to push him off. But Mello's hands fly to his own and he easily captures thin wrists, pinning them over Matt's head with a playful grin.

Matt isn't nearly as fond of this game as Mello seems to be, in fact he's furious. His vulnerable position coaxes more blood to rush to his cheeks, and his skin is on fire beneath the blond. For a moment Matt continues struggling, desperate to be rid to himself of Mello's warm caresses preferring the icy winter breeze which he no longer feels.

Mello has pulled the blanket over them.

Matt's head spins and his stomach churns a bit. He wants dreadfully to be left alone, but as much as he tries Mello's administrations will not allow it.

Now there are warm hands on his chest, his stomach, his thighs massaging taut muscles under creamy soft skin. Mello's hot mouth descends to his throat once more and then his collarbone, ravishing him with love bites, some gentle and others not so much.

He moans low in his throat and arches despite himself.

Mello smiles against his neck as he feels Matt grow hard against his thigh.

"Glad I've finally managed to turn you on, Matty."

Matt's eyes are heavy-lidded, clouded by sleep and unmistakable need. His bangs stick to his forehead as he pants softly but says nothing. Mello ceases his teasing and captures full, tender lips in a passionate kiss. Spreading Matt's legs with his knee, he settles between them and grips his waist firmly, rocking their hips together in a slow and steady pace.

He continues in this gentle fashion until he feels fingers comb through his hair and pull him closer deepening the kiss. He can feel the redhead's fully engorged arousal grinding against his own. The intense friction makes it difficult for him to stifle the whimpers in his throat anymore. They're both desperate for release.

Mello moves harder and faster against him, his head dipping to the crook of Matt's neck and panting warm puffs of air against his skin.

Matt gasps and whines, as Mello snakes his hands down his back, below his boxer's grasping him none to delicately, pressing their bodies ever closer. Mello grunts softly when feels Matt's hands grip his hair harshly, his hot body pushing up against him, achingly hard, matching him thrust for thrust. Damn. He's losing it. At this rate . . .

Matt is dizzy. His hearing grows muddled, the only sound he can make out now is that of their desperate pants, their needy moans, and his own heartbeat pulsating in his ears. The world is spinning. He knows he won't last much longer.

His fingers grasp at Mello's back clinging for dear life. His back arches as high as possible with Mello pressed flush against him, and the tremors of climax rip through his being. Mello comes shortly after gasping softly against his cheek, shivering.

They stay that way in silence catching there breaths, their heartbeats returning to normal, before Mello flashes him a small smile and finally rolls off him, swinging his legs over the bed.

Matt tries to stop him, silently reaching out to touch his shoulder. But his movements are too slow, his fingers miss and swipe the air. Mello has already stood up and in a few quick strides he has left the room completely.

Sometime later, he returns with a small glass of water, a bowl, some cloths and a thermometer. Matt is still awake, though his attention is focused on the window, on the howling winds outside, blowing snowflakes onto the windowsill. He turns only when he feels the bed dip slightly as Mello sits down.

"Are you okay?" Mello asks, switching on the lamp that rests on the night table.

Matt's eyes linger on him for a split-second before he looks away. "I don't feel so hot," he finally admits quietly.

"Don't worry baby, you're a ten to me."

"You know what I mean."

Mello stops teasing and moves closer instead, waving a thermometer in front of the redhead. "Open your mouth."

He tries to protest. "Come on. Seriously – "

Mello will have none of it. " – Matt."

Matt is too tired to argue. Reluctantly, he opens his mouth, and accepts the thermometer. Silent, Mello watches as the mercury in the small cylinder climbs steadily higher. Finally it stops. He takes it out and sits back on his heels, studying it in the dim light of the lamp.

"103 degrees. Looks like you've got a fever."

Matt wants to argue that statement. He doesn't _get_ sick. Mello must have read the thermometer wrong. He moves to sit up, but Mello firmly pushes him down on his back once again. He removes Matt's wet boxers, slipping them off slender hips with little protest and cleans him up.

Only then does he give Matt the glass of water, which he accepts gratefully, wolfing it down quickly. Mello makes him lay down once more and brushes his bangs back as he dips as fresh cloth into the bowl of water, and places the cold rag over his forehead, instantly cooling heated skin. Matt relaxes against the bed, his temperature steadily cooling. It no longer feels like he's suffocating, and he sighs softly.

Mello pulls the blanket over his chest and kisses his forehead lightly.

"I'm going to close the window," he announces. Still, he doesn't move an inch until he hears Matt faintly reply ". . . okay."

**FIN**

My first Deathnote fic. Was it good? bad? ugly? Please be kind and review. It only takes a few seconds to write a review and they make a HUGE impact. Flames are welcome as always, just make sure it's constructive criticism. Much thanks. ;D


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